Men Plan God Laughs
by girlwithdimplesx
Summary: Six years after their separation, Sam and Mercedes are in the same city again. When the two meet again, both of them in new relationships and confident that their past love has dwindled, their confidence is sharply dismissed when they start to fall for each other once more. What happens when the love of a lifetime resurfaces and the new lives they had planned are put to the test?
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! If you were following Won't Always Lose then you've probably already read this but I would just like to go ahead to post the prologue here basically to announce the official commencement of the WAL reboot! For all the new readers, unfortunately I've taken down WAL because of possible plagiarism/account compromise and have not decided if I want to post it again because I'm considering making WAL into an original novel. With that being said, I plan to make the story as enjoyable as possible for those who have not read WAL and I hope that you all _will _enjoy it! Let's hope and pray for the very first chapter tomorrow or Thursday! Sorry for any errors. Happy reading! :) **

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><p>MERCEDES POV<p>

The thing about falling in love with Sam was that she never actually meant to—not the first time, and not this time. When he'd called her after he'd arrived to New York and she agreed to meet him, she'd had nothing but friendly intentions—innocent. And for a while, they had been doing okay. They texted and hung out like buddies do and nothing seemed out of line. She wouldn't lie, he was more gorgeous than ever now that he was older and it was impossible for her to ignore the immediate nostalgia and warmth that took her over at first sight of him again. She remembered everything, as if she could ever forget. Being with Sam had been the best four years of her life and she wouldn't deny that. But when the time came to separate and their relationship failed, after so long, what else could do she do but move on? She never expected to see him again and when she did, from then on she had a more than difficult time not thinking about him. Admittedly though, finding out he was also dating someone else made it a lot easier to shake the aforementioned nostalgia and warmth before it all crushed her. So they were friends, good friends. It wasn't until she suddenly found herself calling him first when she had great news to share instead of her boyfriend, until she found herself smiling and daydreaming when she found his scent in her clothes after they'd spent time together, until she found that her days were instantly improved by the simple sight of his name on her phone when it rang and she smiled like a child being given their favorite candy—until she was doing _so_ many of the things she did when they were still together—it wasn't until _then_ that she began to feel guilty. She was dating someone else and so was he. She knew what it was like to be cheated on and she would never cheat on someone nor would she ever be the other woman. And though she and Sam hadn't yet done anything that physically and truly warranted guilt, she felt guilty anyway. Because though it couldn't be seen with the eye, she knew what she was feeling. She recognized what it felt like to be in love with Sam. It was beautiful, but the guilt that came with it this time around was crippling.

She only hoped her guilt would be enough to stop her now, as she stood in front of him, both of them soaked in their wet clothes, the towel she'd been playfully drying his hair with falling to the ground when he suddenly rested his hand on her cheek, warming her skin the way it always used to. His eyes locked with hers. And she knew exactly where the gesture would lead if she didn't stop him, which is what she was supposed to do.

_Right? _

The problem was, if she was being honest, she didn't know if she wanted to stop him. Looking at his lips, she wondered if they still felt the same—if they could still send chills to her soul. Stopping him would mean she would never find out. But not stopping him would make her like Derrick—a cheater. How could she ever become that person? The answer was she couldn't. She couldn't cheat, she couldn't do that to anyone, she knew what it could do to a person. She knew it could destroy them. And she wasn't prepared for the horrible things she would have to endure afterwards: the biting guilt, the painful expression on Luke's face when she told him. She wasn't sure she would be able to take it. And that was what she was reminding herself of at this very moment.

Funny how just the gentle caress of his thumb against her cheek could make her forget it all. Suddenly her thoughts were battling—half of them telling her no, urging her to walk away. And the other half encouraging her—using all of the beautiful memories she had of them together as swords to fight; reminding her how powerful and sweet their love once was and warning her of how shameful it would be if she didn't find out if it was still blooming. It fought hard and with such strategy, growing louder and louder until the other half was defenseless, becoming but a whisper, just as quiet as the two small words that escaped her before she could stop them;

"Kiss me,"


	2. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! If you follow me on tumblr then you know that on Tuesday I dislocated my shoulder which is why this update took a little longer than I thought it would. My arm is in a sling for the next three weeks and I can****'t use it. ****It****'s very difficult to type with one hand so bare with me. Also, reminder that FF(.net) likes to delete random words from my uploads sometime so please if you need something clarified let me know. **

**Enjoy! :)**

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><p>SAM'S POV<p>

So he wasn't exactly sad to be leaving. San Diego hadn't been the most exciting place in the world to live, not that he'd even had the slightest bit of time for excitement. He was a busy man, and most of the time he enjoyed that. In fact, being the busy man he was had been the only reason he had been able to stop thinking about her, finally, two years after their break up.

_Her._

Mercedes Jones.

Who admittedly was the very first person he thought of when the promotion and relocation were presented to him. Sitting on the plane next to a woman with wavy blonde hair and a small boy who was clearly her son, he recalled the day his boss has sent for him. He'd been sitting in his private cubicle, analyzing data for several companies when his co-worker and friend Jared had peaked his round curly head in.

"Sammy-o," he almost sang, Sam didn't look up, "big boss wants to see you," he continued, tapping the cubicle once before heading off. Sam sighed as he finally looked up.

"Should I bring my balls?" he called after Jared, who sent back a chuckle as he continued on.

Demitri Rudnikov was by nature a _ball-buster_. He spoke bluntly, honestly, and with authority at all times. Sam often wondered if he had friends and what he might do when he's at home. The only image he could ever come up with in his head was of Demitri sitting alone in a dimly lit room in a singularly cushioned chair watching some old Russian sitcom with a lonesome tear falling from his eye. Which really wasn't a fair judgment-the man could just as well host parties every Saturday, Gatsby style with thousands of visitors.

Unlikely. But possible.

Standing from his desk, Sam straightened his navy blue tie as he headed towards the boss' office. He couldn't imagine what the man must've wanted but he racked his brain nonetheless as he walked. He'd quite often had conversations with Demitri which from what he'd learned was a _big deal_. Apparently, Demitri didn't really _talk _to anyone unless he felt they were a necessity. So he wasn't exactly worried about what he might have to say, just simply exhausted from a long week. It was Friday afternoon after all.

When he arrived to the office, he knocked softly on the door and waited for a gruff voice to give permission and when it did, he entered.

"Samuel, have a seat." he said brusquely, typing something on his computer as Sam made his way to the brown leather high back chair. A moment passed before his fingers fell still on the keyboard and his hands moved to rest, interlaced, before him on his desk. Suddenly his eyes scanned Sam quickly before his brows furrowed.

"Where's your jacket, son?"he asked him, his accent strong.

"My jacke-?,"

"Your suit jacket-blazer-where is it?" he clarified.

"I didn't wear one today-didn't you tell me I didn't have to wear one everyday? Four years ago?" Sam wondered.

"I did," he agreed shortly as he nodded.

"_So_," Sam replied in confusion.

"That was back when you were an assistant brand manager." Demitri said ambiguously. Sam's eyebrows furrowed.

"And now I'm-?" he trailed off, slightly excited, slightly befuddled. Demitri looked at him and smiled shortly before bringing the glasses around his neck up to his eyes. He fingered through the stack of paper on his desk, absentmindedly asking;

"How do you feel about New York?"

_New York_.

He thought he'd heard the words _New _and _York _but at the time they'd only sounded like _Mercedes._ Almost as if the words all meant the same thing.

Sam swallowed.

"New York?" he repeated back with a soft shrug. "It's _nice_," he replied, his mind still wandering.

"Great," Demetri replied to a suddenly distracted Sam. "It's where you promotion is," he continued, bringing Sam back to his own brain. _Promotion?_

"My promotion?" he asked.

"To Associate Marketing Director." he explained. "You move next week." he continued almost dismissively.

"Next week?"

"_Wear _a _jacket_," Demitri told him, handing him a packet with all the information he would need before standing up and extending his hand to him, which was almost synonymous with saying _get the hell out _in his world. Almost instinctively, Sam had stood too, taking the packet and reaching his hand to meet Demitri's, the surprise and confusion still fresh on his own face. It didn't seem optional though he knew it was, but the truth was he'd made his decision the moment he'd been informed.

The promotion, the city, and the fully furnished condo that after half reading the packet he found out came with it-how could he refuse?

He tried to convince himself that his decision had nothing to do with _her_.

Many things had crossed his mind as he thought more seriously about the promotion on his drive home-though his decision was already made. But there was _something _that had slipped from his consideration. Or _someone _rather.

His girlfriend of six months, Nicole, who he thought he would have received a _good luck _text from once he got off the plane, but it never came.

He guessed it wasn't exactly fair to call her his _girlfriend. _They hadn't ended things per se, but they'd decided to be open to the idea that it wouldn't work out.

Okay, he guessed it wasn't fair to say _they_ had decided. He hadn't really made it a choice and she wasn't particularly happy about that. The fact was, he'd been with Mercedes for four years-four amazing years. He'd loved her like he didn't think he would ever love another.

And distance had destroyed them in just two months after they separated.

With Nicole-the woman he'd met at a club who had only started off as a convenient lay, the woman whose family he hadn't even met yet, the woman he wasn't sure he even loved-he could imagine a long distance relationship with her lasting about a week.

He cared about her a lot. She was a great woman-smart, pretty, sweet. She was a catch, if he was being honest. She loved him-she confessed that often. And within just six months, he could admit he'd put her through a lot.

There were things that she wanted that he couldn't give her; things she wanted him to _say _that he couldn't. Because there were parts of him that emotionally, he just couldn't reach anymore. Not since _her. _

So he couldn't lie and say that Mercedes wasn't at the very front of his mind rather than the back as he waited at baggage claim, as he hailed a cab outside of the unnervingly large New York City airport, and as he was driven to his new condo. The cab smelled like cigarettes and dust and Sam tried to hold his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tan skinned driver with a short blonde pony tail cut his eyes at him in the rear view mirror, just before he chuckled lightly and Sam guessed his expression must have been amusing.

"Don't worry," the young man said. "Sooner or later your nose gets used to it,"

"No, yeah-" Sam almost gagged. "I think I'm already adapting," he blatantly lied. The cab driver only laughed and shook his head.

Sam hadn't had even an inkling of what his new home looked like but just standing before the tall stone high-rise, his head lifting as his eyes scanned the windows, counting them from top to bottom until they ended on the _fifteenth _floor, before his gaze fell back to eye-level, landing on the tall, buff, and bald security guard just before the front door-he just had a feeling he wouldn't be disappointed. The guard was dressed in a dark suit and suddenly Sam felt under-dressed in his gray t-shirt and jeans. The man never looked at him, only look passed him even as Sam approached him more closely. And when he was close enough, the suit moved quickly to open the door for Sam and Sam almost laughed as he stepped through.

_Is this for real? _

It was a bit over the top if you asked him. It was a Sunday, for Christs sake. Wasn't there a family this guy could be home with?

"Thanks, man," Sam said, not even a little surprised that he received no response.

Upon entering, Sam was taken aback in more ways than one. The first being that he was immediately rushed by another doorman in an equally fancy suit at the second door as he escorted him in, almost frantically wondering if Sam had anymore bags he needed carried. Sam wondered if these people worked for money or were their _lives _at stake. He gently directed the young man to the cab outside and told him his apartment number, though he himself wasn't sure how to find it.

The _second _being that he was dumbfounded at the sight of the interior of the building. The floors were a glossy white marble, the walls a chic gray with beautiful long lights installed on every other section of them. Sam approached the receptionist's tall brown desk, passing a stout woman in a pants suit chasing her probably six year old son through the lobby, and a section of blue-ish purple cushioned chairs placed in a half circle with a silver coffee table in the middle of them, a white vase sitting on the center of it, holding a bushel of beautiful orchids, their color almost identical to that of the chairs. The place was so gorgeous that he could almost get over how ostentatious it was.

At the receptionist desk, a woman with fair skin, hazel eyes, a tiny round nose, and a tight brown pony-tail at the back of her head smiled at him. Sam frowned at her suit.

"Oh, come on," he said in exasperation as he parked his rolling suitcase. "Tell me you guys are only wearing suits 'cause it's Sunday." he continued. Lindsay-the receptionist-smiled sweetly.

"You must be new here," she replied simply and he laughed shortly before sighing.

"Sam Evans. Embarrassingly new." he said, extending his hand. She shook it politely, her eyes falling to his full lips before returning to his gaze as they released each others hands. "How does this work? Do I check in? Do I just go? I dunno, this sort of feels like a hotel." he rambled and Lindsay chuckled.

"Mr. Evans, if I could just see your I.D." she said distractedly as she typed something on the computer screen before her. He nodded as he went for his wallet. Handing his I.D. to her, he exhaled loudly as he looked around again, people watching.

_Suits. Suits. And more suits. _He wondered if even the children wore suits. And the dogs. He was suddenly transported back to the day his boss had warned him to wear a suit jacket. Certainly it would help him fit in.

"Okay, apartment 130B, thirteenth floor." Lindsay started as she began to assemble a stack of paperwork. When she was done, she placed the stack in a glossy black folder before placing it in front of him with a smile, and placed a small white envelope with a key inside of it on top of it all. "The company's housing department has taken care of most of the paperwork for you and the first month of rent has been taken care of. But we do need payment information from you as well as more personal details and past residential information as requested in these forms Also, there are a few things in the packet your boss included in the packet for you to reference."

"Excellent. Are you gonna need these back tonight or-."

"Within the next three days would be best." she said kindly and he nodded.

"Anything else I need to know? Fire escapes? Code words to communicate with the big guy out there? Weekly suit quotas?" he half joked and Lindsay laughed.

"No, you're all set, Mr. Evans. Welcome to Tower 47," she replied sweetly. Sam thanked her then rushed towards the elevators at the wall behind him when he saw his bellboy stepping inside of one of them.

The condo was nothing short of fantastic. The windows were large, long, and placed more frequently around than Sam was used to. The walls were painted a simple white, the very tops of them lined with the same gray as the walls in the lobby. There were various large generic black and white pictures on the wall-a couple of the city and its lights, and a few of places in countries he didn't recognize. His suit case rolled noisily against the black hardwood floors beneath him as he passed a collection of two black bookcases just as he entered the living room. There he found a double cushioned suede black sofa, decorated with deep blue throw pillows. Beside it, there was a black, white, and gray patterned accent chair and just in front of the chairs, on top of the square solid gray rug, there was black ottoman, suede like the sofa. As he moved in further, he could see a flat screen TV that looked to be about 72 inches on the wall and his eyes widened on sight of it.

"Holy shit," he mumbled. Almost simultaneously, there was the sound of a throat clearing and Sam was reminded he wasn't alone. He turned around quickly to face the bellhop behind him, taking his wallet out of his back pocket at the same time. "Right," he breathed as he dug through his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill. "Thanks a lot-," he paused, reading the man's name tag. "-Robert." he finished, handing him the tip with a smile. The man grinned gratefully.

"Pleasure," he replied simply before heading back out the door. Sam turned back to his new place, his gaze falling on the luxurious square glass dining room table just behind the living room, the legs black and wooden, twisting into sustainable X. The chairs were black leather. Next he examined the kitchen, all black besides the gray on the counter-tops. It was understated, but fashionable. The refrigerator was quite large and Sam couldn't imagine what he would do with a kitchen as spacious as this one. In the middle of it, there was an island with a selection of pots, pans, and cooking utensils hanging above it.

He found his bedroom next. These walls were black and made of giant tile. The bed was almost wooden and low, the bedspreads a simple deep blue, decorated with black pillows. Above the bed there was a long picture of the city from high above ground. There was a pattern of pictures of the city around the apartment-almost as if they thought he might forget where he lived. Among all these rooms, there were two full bathrooms and an office. It was a real home for a real adult. It made him feel like he was nineteen again and he was visiting place where he could only one day hope to live.

Nineteen year old Sam would be proud. And so would his father.

That night when he had unpacked most of his clothing, he lay comfortably in his bed, scrolling through his contacts to find his mother. She'd changed her phone number three times in the last month in an attempt to keep herself safe. His father's law firm was working on a very high profile case. It wasn't rare that she would receive death threats. He scrolled and scrolled, almost mindlessly after a while. His mind was suddenly completely alert though when he saw _her _name.

Mercedes.

It wasn't like it was unexpected that he'd run into her name.

_Mother._

_Mercedes._

It made sense. But still, his body responded as if it had been a surprise. He thought for a moment, knowing full well that she could be anywhere in this city-even next door. What he didn't know is if he should do something about it.

He decided not to and instead willed himself to scroll a little further until he found his mother's number and called it to let her know he'd settled in.

He didn't hear from Nicole that night, which he decided he deserved.

The condo was very quiet, almost eerily. So just after he showered and rolled into bed, he turned on the music on his phone, careful to exclude the play-list he'd labeled _Mercedes _years ago. The one she'd put together before they'd moved in different directions to remind him of her.

The one he still couldn't bring himself to delete.

The next morning after less than five hours of sleep, he skipped breakfast because he was too excited and because he hadn't actually gone grocery shopping yet. He used that extra time to shape his short but growing facial hair a bit and properly press his black suit. He had the strongest of urges to ditch the jacket and just wear the shirt and tie-just for the sake of rebellion. But it was his first day. He figured he could give them at least one day to warm up to him. His _second _day, he decided, would be more appropriate.

Outside he successfully hailed a cab and hopped inside.

"Jacobs and Dorsey on," Sam paused as he looked at the directions on his phone.

"82nd?" the cab driver suggested and Sam nodded quickly as he looked up.

"Exactly," he replied through an appreciative smile and the cab driver nodded as he took off. Sam set his gaze outside the window, watching the people walking and the buildings as he rode.

"New around here?" the cab driver suddenly asked.

"Why do you ask that?" Sam retorted curiously as he looked up at the man in the mirror. The cab driver chuckled softly and Sam's brows furrowed.

"Because _this_," the driver began as he brought the car to a complete stop. "Is Jacobs and Dorsey," he finished. Sam's eyes narrowed as he turned to look out the window again. And it was true. Less than two minutes, and he was already sitting in front of his new workplace. It made sense then why they had placed him in those condos and why there were so many suits in the building. He guessed they possibly owned the building. He thought then that he should _really_ finish reading the packets.

"That'll be four dollars and ten cents," the driver announced. Sam chuckled as he shook his head, taking his wallet out and retrieving a five dollar bill.

"You could've told me I could walk," Sam said as he handed him the money. The driver chuckled again as he took the money.

"Where's the fun in that?" he replied simply. "Have a great day," he continued and Sam only continued to shake his head as he got out of the cab.

Inside, the building was almost identical to that of the one in San Diego, only much larger. Sam read the email on his phone as he walked, finding the sender's-his new boss'-name on the bottom and then asked the nearest employee where he could find him. The man quickly directed him to the eighth floor and Sam made his way to the elevators.

Once the doors swung open, there was a clear cut and long path between the cubicles that led to a wall of offices, the largest being the boss'. He knew because his name was printed in gigantic letters across the glass window of it.

_Thomas Westfield. _

Sam walked confidently towards the office, smiling and greeting the men and women who seemed to be eyeing him as if they knew him. When he reached the glass office, he saw a man who looked to be only a few years older than him, his hair dark and short, his nose sharp and his lips thin as he spoke on the phone at his desk. Sam thought maybe he was in the wrong place or maybe his assistant was playing boss until the young man waved him in with an almost confused look on his face. Shortly after he entered, Thomas hung up the phone and stood to shake Sam's hand.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked and Sam wondered where the greeting was in that statement.

"I'm not exactly sure how to answer that," Sam replied through a chuckle.

"Sam Evans, right?" Thomas confirmed as he scratch the stubble on the bottom of his chin and Sam nodded.

"That's correct,"

"Well, Sam Evans, you're not scheduled to be here for another week." Thomas told him and Sam's eyes narrowed.

"I thought I was supposed to start this we-,"

"You were supposed to _move _this week. Didn't you read the packet?" Thomas interrupted, moving around his desk to lean on the front of it. _I should really finish the packet_. Sam thought.

"How that's going anyway? The moving? You look tired." Thomas noted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't get much sleep, I guess." Sam admitted and Thomas' eyes narrowed as he examined him.

"Yeah, _tired_'s an understatment. You look dead. Why don't you get out of here? Get settled in, alright?" he said as he moved back around his desk and took a seat in his chair, clicking something on his computer. "Your office won't be ready until next Monday anyway."

"Office?" Sam repeated, the whole conversation confusing him. _How old is this dude? _He wondered.

"Oh come on, I know they told you you'd be getting an office." Thomas almost laughed.

"Not really. They kinda just shipped me off and here I am. At your disposal." Sam replied.

"In one week you are. Get outta here, you look dead. Get some sleep and then go see the city." Thomas said and Sam chuckled as he warmed to his new boss.

"Monday, then." Sam said as he shook his hand once more.

"_Monday_," Thomas half sang and Sam smiled as he headed for the door.

Sam walked leisurely down the road back to his apartment building, passing clusters of people in suits on the way and he decided right then that he needed to change if he was going to take his boss' advice and see the city.. At the door he gave a nod and a salute to the security guard at the door who promptly ignored him as he opened the door for him and Sam only chuckled as he shook his head.

Upstairs, he changed quickly into a pair of khaki denim pants and a sky blue button up shirt with cuffed sleeves. Just as he sat on the bed, slipping on a pair of socks, a wave of sleep hit him and he was reminded that he'd woken up at five in the morning after going to sleep at almost two. Yawning, he looked at his watch and found it to be almost seven. He turned to eye the pillows behind him and his decision was easy.

A nap was in order.

Sam woke with a growling stomach and a hunger headache and that was when he remembered he had yet to go grocery shopping. He quickly brushed his teeth, not bothering to even straighten his bed hair before he stepped into his shoes and headed for the door. Lindsay at the front desk directed him to the nearest grocery store just two miles north and he figured he could walk it. It would give him a chance to see his new home after all. After a while he entered an area that was slightly more urban. There was graffiti on a many of the building walls and a smell that sort of transported him back to his cab ride in.

But, there were no _suits._

He turned left on the corner that Lindsay had instructed him and just as he did, he saw her.

_Her._

She was far away, walking across the street a half a mile ahead but he _knew _it was her. Before he could think, he was taking off-running and calling her name, his body alive with something he hadn't felt in years. Car horns beeped loudly at him and cruel words were shouted but he didn't care. It was _her._

"Mercedes!" he called louder as the girl continued to walk and when he was finally close, she turned slowly around, and a face he didn't recognize and eyes he didn't know looked back at him. His lips parted just a bit in shock before he closed his mouth and began to back away, the car horns sounding off at him once again.

"Sorry," he muttered to the visibly confused stranger as he moved away, heading back towards the grocery store in defeat.

It hadn't been her. And maybe he should've been relieved instead of disappointed. It could've made for an awkward situation. But all he could think about as he entered the store was the feeling that had taken him over at even the thought of being so close to her again. And he craved to feel it again. So he decided then, despite his better judgment.

He needed to see her.

MERCEDES POV

Monday mornings were hell.

She'd woken up almost twenty minutes late which meant she wouldn't have time for coffee, which meant she wouldn't have energy or patience-which meant she would be a dragon in a black skirt.

Which meant Mondays were _hell_.

When she arrived to work, in her red pumps she rushed to the elevator and pressed three, her eyes on her watch the whole way up. Reaching her floor, she stepped out and made a sharp left towards her office, stopping to grab her mail out of the mail room before heading to her office again, greeting her coworkers as sweetly as she could. Roaming through her mail, she continued to walk, leaving a soft knock on the side of the threshold of her co-worker Stephanie's office door as a greeting before continuing. The sound of her name stopped her in her tracks.

"Mercedes!" Stephanie almost shouted.

"Hmm?" she replied, noncommittal as she stood at the door of her friend's office, eyeing an envelope from a company she swore never to work with again. She heard Stephanie's chair pull back and then the sound of her heels against the floor as she came towards hers.

"Two things, Mercedes," Stephanie paused, her Hispanic and Brooklyn accent strong. Mercedes' eyebrows lifted as she looked at her co-worker, her long flawless black hair pulled back into a high pony tail that reached far down her back. "One," Stephanie began again, "some white guy with incredible lips came by and dropped this off for you." she said, handing Mercedes a beautiful single blue-ish purple orchid and a medium sized purple gift box with a purple ribbon tied around it. Mercedes' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "And two, can I have him because you know how I feel about lips-you _know_." Stephanie finished and Mercedes laughed, shaking her head as she looked at the flower and the box in her hand.

"What are you talking abo-," and then she realized, her eyes stretching open as she stopped mid-sentence. But it couldn't be. _He _couldn't be there. _Could he_?

"Mercedes?" Stephanie called.

"Just give me a sec, okay?" she replied, her thoughts scrambled as she rushed to her office, closing the door behind her. Standing with her back against the frosted glass door, her eyes darted across her office in something like excitement, maybe disguised as panic. She moved quickly across the room to sit in the red executive chair behind her glossy black goggle desk. Placing the mail, the single purple orchid and the purple gift box on her desk, she sat back in her chair and examined the box curiously, almost as if it were a bomb that was meant to be disarmed with great care.

_Sam Evans._

Something stung her to her core at the very thought of the name. It had been almost six years since she'd seen him. Still, no amount of time had been enough to wipe away the memories she'd shared with him. A love so epic and all consuming-a love that failed, just as she'd feared it would. A love that when it was severed, stole her sleep away, shattered her heart, and made a constant river out of her two eyes for almost an entire year. A love that changed her life forever.

A tragic love.

A beautiful love.

In the first two years after they ended it, they'd communicated often and most days it caused more pain than happiness because no matter how much they called and texted, it didn't bring them any closer to each other. San Diego was still thousands of miles away from New York and their schedules were still so overwhelmingly hectic. Their communication after they'd broken up only served as a reminder of what they couldn't do-make it work. So with time, they talked less and less until they didn't talk at all-their only knowledge of each other consisted of ambiguous Twitter updates from the other. It was a necessary pain-and it was _painful_. But with time, she was able to go a few more days without thinking too heavily of him. And she couldn't have been more thankful for time and it's healing powers. Getting over Sam had been the great storm of her life. And she hadn't drowned.

But now she was struggling to breathe. She mentally struck herself as she continued to stare at the box and the flower before her.

"Just open it," she said quietly, pushing a loose strand of her curly black hair behind her ear. And with one last deep breath, she reached for the box and quickly untied the purple bow, tossing it onto the floor before pulling the top off of the box. When she looked inside, her eyes beheld a small bag of white rice. Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed as she looked at it. Beneath it, she could see a piece of paper peeking out. Quickly, she took the bag out of the box and with her other hand she picked up the white piece of notepad paper. Her heart stopped at the sight of his hand writing before her brain could even comprehend the words.

It was really him.

She didn't need to see his name on the note to know that. But she read it anyway.

_R.I.C.E._

_Saw this at the grocery store while I was shopping for my new apartment in __NYC __and I thought of you and that lesson you skipped in health class. Remember?_

_Hoping for a tour around my new city soon. _

_-Sam E. _

And that was when she decided that she hadn't actually woken up this morning and this was all dream that she wished she didn't want to be real.

Mondays.

Mondays were _hell_.

**This chapter was focused a lot more on Sam and what he's been up to since the break up, as you may have noticed. Expect a lot more Mercedes the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed! Leave your thoughts!**


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